


Time-Lapse

by sahiya



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad Bingo 2019, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: No one should live their life in a devastated wasteland. Peter wouldn’t have wanted Tony and May to try. Only now he was back, and it was impossible to see where he fit into this new landscape, this new world.In fact, he was becoming more and more certain that he didn’t.





	Time-Lapse

**Author's Note:**

> For the "angst" square of my Irondad Bingo card. Unbeta'd, so please feel free to note any egregious typos. I'm sure I will find at least five or six as soon as I post.

Five years was a long time. 

Peter had once watched a time-lapse video in a biology class in middle school of an area that had been devastated by a forest fire. It was charred ground and black stumps, and then, over the next year, two years, three years, it wasn’t anymore. The green came back, moss and grass covering the forest floor, climbing up the charred stumps. The trees that were too tall to be killed sprouted leaves again. Wildflowers bloomed––lots of them, because nothing was blocking the sunlight. 

It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t _normal_. You could still see that something terrible had happened there. But the devastation was covered by new growth that was beautiful. It covered over blackened ground and dead trees, where nothing lived, creating something new. Something completely different than it had been.

Peter kept thinking about that video in the days after Dr. Banner brought them back and Captain Danvers saved the universe. He didn’t know why at first. It took a few days for it to sink in, just what those five years really meant. It wasn’t just the gray hair Tony and May both had now, or the fact that half his classmates were people he’d never met before. It wasn’t only that technology was just different enough to throw him off, or that he was years behind in _Star Wars_ and _Doctor Who_. 

He was certain Tony and May had both been devastated when he’d been dusted––when he’d _died_ , for all intents and purposes. He was sure they had missed him. But they’d had to keep going. They’d had to move on. New growth had sprung up, covering over the charred ground and blackened stumps of his disappearance, of their grief. 

No one should live their life in a devastated wasteland. Peter wouldn’t have wanted them to try. Only now he was back, and it was impossible to see where he fit into this new landscape, this new world.

In fact, he was becoming more and more certain that he didn’t.

***

Ben’s birthday was February 10th. On the tenth of every month after he died, Peter had skipped patrolling and come home in time for him and May to eat an early dinner together. They’d had either pot roast or lasagna––always terrible, but that was part of the ritual––before driving out to Cedar Grove Cemetery, where Ben was buried. 

They stopped and got cannoli on the way. They ate it at the grave while filling in Ben––and sometimes each other, if they’d been extra busy––on what they’d been up to. 

In the beginning, it’d been hard. Sometimes Peter didn’t want to go, but he always made himself, because it wasn’t just for him, it was for May, too, and he didn’t want her to go alone. The two of them had spent a lot of time crying and holding each other. Peter had loved May, but he’d always been a little bit closer to Ben. Those hours in front of Ben’s grave, in every type of weather New York City had to offer––those were when they became May-and-Peter. A unit, complete unto themselves. 

Peter’s birthday was August 10th. May had told him that they could do it a day early or a day late, but Peter hadn’t wanted to put it off––not only or even mostly because of Ben, but because he wanted an excuse for it to be just him and May. 

It’d been a hot, humid night, but the cemetery had been almost pleasant––like a park, the sounds of the city distant and almost soothing. There’d been fireflies winking in and out in all the bushes. May had surprised him with a cake with a Spiderman candle.

“May...” he’d said, at a loss for words. 

“I’m proud of you, Peter,” she’d said softly. “I know the last couple of months have been rough. I don’t always get it, but I love you, and I’m so proud of you. And so is Ben, wherever he is.”

Peter had hugged her until she couldn’t breathe. It was the best gift she could’ve given him, because after that, he hadn’t worried that he was going to lose May because of Spiderman. 

On the tenth of May, three weeks after Peter was un-dusted, he came home early––not from school, because the city hadn’t managed to sort all that out yet, but from patrol. He showered and changed, expecting to hear the front door at any moment. 

Five o’clock came and went, and then the clock started creeping up on six. Peter texted May. _Did you get held up? Can I put dinner in the oven?_

Almost twenty minutes went by before he got an answer. _Sorry, sweetie, didn’t think you’d be home. I’m supposed to have dinner with Happy tonight. Are you okay on your own?_

Peter stared at the message, uncomprehending. She’d forgotten. It was the tenth, and she’d forgotten. 

_I’m supposed to have dinner with Happy tonight._

Peter swallowed. _He_ was the one who’d forgotten. It hadn’t been less than two years for her. It’d been almost seven. He didn’t know if she’d kept going to the cemetery every tenth after he disappeared, but at some point, it seemed, she’d stopped. She hadn’t needed to go anymore. And now, she was to the point where she could spend the evening of a tenth with Happy and not think about it at all. 

Peter’s throat was aching with unshed tears. _Sorry must’ve gotten mixed up_ , he wrote back. _I’m fine on my own for dinner. Are you coming home tonight?_

_I can. Everything ok?_

He couldn’t tell her, Peter realized. It was good that she’d moved on like this. It was _right_. He didn't want her to feel bad about it. If he told her, she’d feel obligated to start going with him again, and he didn’t want that. 

_Everything’s fine_ , he wrote back. _I’m gonna grab something to eat and go back out._

_Be careful. Text me when you get in. No later than 11, capiche?_

_Capiche_ , he agreed. 

He made a sandwich and forced himself to eat it, even though it tasted like sand. Then he went back out but not as Spiderman––just as himself, Peter Parker. 

Like a lot of things around the city, the cemetery looked like it had fallen on hard times. At least the cannoli shop was still there. Peter bought three of them. 

It was a nice night. Not hot yet, but it would be soon. Peter let his feet carry him where they wanted to go. The grave hadn’t moved, of course, but it did look a little overgrown, as though May hadn’t been there for a while. Peter pulled some weeds, making a little pile next to him, and then sat back on his heels with a sigh. 

“Just me, Uncle Ben,” he said, reaching out to trace the letters. “Hope you’re not disappointed. But you probably know about May and Happy. I’m sure she told you. She probably told you about me, too, but maybe not that I came back.” He stopped, swallowed. “I came back, but I missed five years. Y-you’ve been gone so long now. I was gone for so long.”

He drew a trembling breath. “Sometimes I feel like... I don’t know. May and I took care of each other after you died, and I was really proud of us for that. And now––and now she has Happy. And I feel like I’m sort of...” His voice cracked, embarrassingly. “In the way,” he finished, in a whisper. 

There wasn’t any answer, of course. There never had been, but May had always been right there, so it had always been okay. It had never left Peter feeling small and lonely.

He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and reached out to press his fingers into the engraved letters again. “I really wish you were here, Ben,” he said hoarsely. “Love you.”

He couldn’t bring himself to eat the cannoli. He took them home and left May a note telling her they were in the fridge––not because he hoped they’d jog her memory, but because she’d always loved them. 

She called the next morning while he was out in the suit. He webbed up to the top of an apartment building and answered. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she greeted him, sounding almost in tears. “I’m so, so sorry, I can’t believe I forgot. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Peter shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “I don’t know, I just—I realized it’s been a lot longer for you now.”

“Peter,” she choked, and didn’t seem able to go on.

“How long did you keep going?” Peter asked.

She sniffled. “I couldn’t go on the tenth anymore, baby. It was too much. I started going the last Saturday of every month, and I did that for... I don’t know. For a while. I haven’t gone regularly in a couple of years. I went on his birthday last year, and on our anniversary. But we’ll start going again, you and me, all right?”

“You don’t have to––”

“No, I should, I just...” May stopped. Peter listened to her draw a deep breath. “It was really hard for a while, remembering everything I’d lost.”

Peter’s eyes were hot with tears. “I know. And––and it’s okay, we don’t have to––I don’t want to make you keep grieving just because I still am.”

He heard her voice catch. “Peter...”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I gotta go, there’s a––mugging.”

“Peter, wait––”

“Bye,” he said, and disconnected the call. 

She called back. He didn’t pick up. 

***

Tony and Pepper had a daughter. 

Peter thought he must’ve been hallucinating the first time he saw her, in the hospital after the final battle. Happy brought her in, once Tony was finished being treated for the head injury and the broken ribs and the fractured wrist, once he was just bruised and no longer bloody. 

Peter had his own set of injuries, but they were half-healed already, and he was sitting at Tony’s bedside, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that five years had passed in the blink of an eye. It was too much to comprehend. His mind flinched away from it. 

And then Morgan walked in with Happy, and all at at once it swamped Peter, like being knocked over by a wave at the beach. The world hadn’t hit pause. The world had kept going while Peter had stopped, and now Tony had a _kid._. A kid that was half him and half Pepper. A kid that he obviously adored, judging by the way his face lit up when he saw her, in an easy, uncomplicated kind of way.

Peter didn’t quite know how to describe his relationship with Tony, but it had never been easy or uncomplicated. They’d spent time together before the Snap––in the lab, watching movies, the occasional mission that was a couple steps above Peter’s usual pay grade and a whole bunch below Tony’s. Peter had told Tony about school, his friends, May. 

But Tony had rarely reciprocated, refusing to give up much about himself at all, and he’d never been very affectionate. He’d put his arm around Peter’s shoulders occasionally, or ruffled his hair. But until Peter returned in the middle of the battle with Thanos, Tony had never hugged him. 

It’d left Peter feeling a little... untethered. Uncertain. Precarious. Like his relationship with Tony was nice but not something he could rely on. Like it could vanish overnight, and Peter might not even know why.

The hug had made Peter think things might be different now. Tony was _so happy_ to see him, and Peter thought that maybe, just maybe, their relationship might change. Might become something reliable, reciprocal, affectionate. Something just... _more_. 

But now, Peter watched Tony hold Morgan, fearlessly, unreservedly, with so much naked love and relief on his face that Peter almost turned away in embarrassment. He forced himself to watch as she curled up on his chest and he held her, eyes closed, rocking back and forth a little. As though they were the only two people in the world. 

There was only one word for the feeling that uncurled itself then, in the space beneath Peter’s ribs, as hopes that he’d barely begun to nurture withered and died on the vine. 

_Envy_. 

Tony didn’t need a surrogate kid. He especially didn’t need one with anxiety and abandonment issues and some really inconvenient superpowers. He had his own. She was cute and well-adjusted, and she looked like Pepper when she smiled. 

It was awful, Peter knew. Being jealous of Morgan made him feel like shit about himself. He couldn’t seem to stop, though, so he just hid it as best he could. He went back to the city with May and started going out every day as Spiderman. When Tony called and asked him up to the lake house––which took him almost two weeks, confirming everything Peter was already thinking—Peter deflected, avoided, resisted. 

Finally Tony, sounding a little hurt, said, “Well, the invitation’s always open, kid. You know that.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, never intending to take him up on it. It was nice of Tony to offer, but the idea of spending three days with Tony’s family, feeling like a charity case or at the very least an outsider, made him want to curl up and die. He couldn’t watch Tony shower Morgan with all the affection that Peter himself had always craved from Tony, knowing it would never be his. He knew that made him a terrible person, but knowing that didn’t stop him from feeling it. 

Except then it was the end of May, and it was Tony’s birthday. And this time Pepper called May, and she and Happy were going, too, and there was absolutely no way for Peter to get out of it.

It only rubbed salt in the wound to know that under other circumstances, Peter would’ve loved the lake house. Tony was clearly expecting him to like it; the first thing he did was drag Peter around on a tour, Morgan glued to his hip, and show him the dock and the boat and the garage. Morgan stayed quiet and watched Peter warily, head tucked in the crook of Tony’s neck, as though she knew that Peter was an interloper. 

Kids were perceptive. 

In the garage, Tony finally ran down. Peter stood in the middle of this space that both did and did not remind him of the lab at the compound where they’d spent so much time. The sofa was the same, a lot of the tools were the same, and that was DUM-E over there in the charging station. But it felt completely different. 

This was a home. A home that Tony had built for himself and Pepper and Morgan. A home for a family that didn’t have any space in it for Peter. 

“You two are both being really quiet,” Tony said, breaking the silence. “It’s freaking me out.”

“Sorry,” Peter muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. It was a huge tell, he knew. “Self-soothing,” a school psychologist had told May once, not realizing Peter could hear him. But he couldn’t help himself. 

“Down, Daddy,” he heard Morgan say. Her feet hit the floor. 

“Go find Mom, all right?” Tony told her. “See if she needs any help.”

“Okay,” Morgan said easily. Peter listened to her scamper off. 

Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, ever so carefully, and squeezed. Peter fought the urge to hunch. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, refusing to look up. He’d fixed his eyes on a prototype of something––it looked like a wristwatch. “It’s just a lot. Everything is... it’s different.”

“Not everything,” Tony said quietly. 

Peter did raise his head and look at him then. “Everything,” he repeated. “Except me. And I don’t know how to... to... adjust. How to... fit. If I fit.”

Tony frowned at him. “Pete. I know it’s a lot to take in, but of course you fit.”

“Do I?” Peter said, voice trembling. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Tony hesitated. “Is this... May told me about what happened a couple weeks ago. With the cemetery. She said you haven’t wanted to talk about it.”

“I don’t,” Peter said, more snappishly than he intended. He tightened his grip on himself. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t look like it’s fine.”

“Well, it is, so just...” Peter dashed angrily at his eyes. “It’s okay. You and May both––you did what you had to do. It’s just hard. And it was harder for you guys, I’m sure, so I shouldn’t even complain.”

“You’re not complaining, kid,” Tony said. His voice was a lot gentler than Peter had ever heard it before. _Morgan_ , he thought. He’d learned that voice for Morgan, and now he was using it on Peter. That should have made him feel better, but it only made the tangle of envy and hurt and abandonment in his chest burn hotter. “You’re right, it was hard for us, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t hard, too.”

Peter just shook his head. He didn’t want to say the words that wanted to crawl out of his throat. 

_You should have let me stay dead._

He didn’t mean it, not really. And they might take it all the wrong way, and that was the last thing Peter needed. He wasn’t suicidal. He was just having a really hard time living with all of this. 

He felt terribly alone, as though he’d been left behind again. That wasn’t fair, though. They’d worked so hard not to leave anyone behind. It was stupid to feel this way now. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony finally said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Peter said dully. “Me neither.”

***

He didn’t sleep that night. It was quiet and still at the lake house, and he should have slept really well, away from the constant noise of the city, even if he was on the fold-out sofa in the living room. But the feeling of being not right in his own skin kept him awake. He thought about moss crawling up blackened stumps, about wild flowers blooming in new places because there was enough sunlight for them now. 

He wondered if he’d had to die in order for Morgan to be born. If him not being there was what had allowed May to fall in love again. 

The thoughts drove him out of bed at little after three in the morning. He let himself out onto the porch, but that wasn’t far enough from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him. He walked down the path toward the water; he wasn’t wearing shoes, and it was very dark, with only the porch light and the moon to guide him, but his eyesight was just as enhanced as the rest of him. 

He sat down at the end of the dock, put his feet in the water, and waited for the sun to come up.

***

He looked like shit the next morning. He hadn’t slept at all, and Peter could see from the looks that May and Tony were exchanging that they could tell. 

He was worrying everyone. Again. He knew it wouldn’t help if he withdrew into himself, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He got a cup of coffee and went and sat in the corner of the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. Everyone else was eating––Happy was cooking, which meant it’d actually be edible––and talking, it was actually kind of loud, louder than it should have been for the number of people, and––

“You wanna read a book together?”

Peter looked up. Morgan was standing in front of him, clutching several books to her chest. She looked nervous but also... determined. 

“Sure,” he said, because he wasn’t actually going to say no to a four-year-old. “Come on up.” She climbed up on the sofa next to him. Peter could _feel_ Tony watching them, but he didn’t look up. “Which one do you want me to read to you?”

She shook her head. “ _I’m_ going to read to _you_.”

“Oh,” Peter said, taken aback. “You can read?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a baby.”

Peter suppressed a smile. He might be insanely jealous of her, she might have made him question his entire existence, but it was hard not to _like_ Morgan Stark. Those were Tony’s eyes in that very expressive face, and Pepper’s dimples when she smiled. “Sorry.”

“Besides, Daddy said you’re sad, and when I’m sad, he reads to me.”

“Oh,” Peter said again, blinking at her. “Okay.”

She snuggled in closer than he was expecting, her back to his front, and opened the book. Peter leaned on a throw pillow and rested his head on the arm of the sofa so he could see the pictures. “This one is Daddy’s favorite. It’s called _The Pigeon Needs a Bath_.” She leaned over and whispered, “The pigeon is kind of a jerk.”

Peter smiled again, a little weakly, but she didn’t seem to notice as she started reading. 

The pigeon _was_ kind of a jerk. Peter could see why it was Tony’s favorite. 

When she was done with that one, she picked up the next book––another pigeon one––and then one about a pig and an elephant. The noise from the kitchen receded now that he was concentrating on her, and his eyelids grew heavy. The sound of the pages turning was soothing, and she was a warm weight against his side. He closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again, she was gone. The kitchen was empty. For a few groggy, disoriented seconds, Peter thought he was alone, and he started to panic. 

“Hey, kid, take a deep breath,” Tony said, and Peter realized that he was sitting in a recliner just out of Peter’s direct line of sight, StarkPad in his hands. Peter drew a shaky breath, slumping. “There you go. Feeling better?”

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. Where is everyone?”

“They took the boat across the lake for a picnic.”

“Oh.” Peter frowned. “Why didn’t you go with them? It’s your birthday. You should be celebrating.”

“We’ve got lots of time for that. You hungry? You didn’t eat anything at breakfast.”

Peter shrugged. “I could eat.”

“Sandwiches okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tony put his tablet down and went into the kitchen. Peter sat up, knuckling his eyes and trying to feel more with it. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, now room temp in its mug on the coffee table, hoping it would help. 

“Want to eat on the deck?” Tony asked. 

Peter didn’t care, but Tony had given up a picnic with Morgan and Pepper to stay at the house and watch him sleep, so it seemed the least he could do. “Sure.”

They ate sitting side by side on the wicker furniture. Tony didn’t make him talk. Peter didn’t think he was hungry, but he inhaled two sandwiches and a bunch of potato chips. Tony went inside and came back out with a frosted cinnamon roll on a plate. “Pepper will kill me if I touch the cupcakes before this evening, but I think this counts as dessert, even if it’s leftover from breakfast,” he said, setting the plate down in front of Peter.

Peter broke off a piece of cinnamon roll and and stuffed it in his mouth. The familiar taste of Pillsbury dough and packaged frosting was weirdly comforting. 

“All right, kid,” Tony said, after a few more minutes of silence. “I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on, because May and I are both freaking out.”

Peter swallowed. He picked at a tiny bit of frosting smeared on the side of the plate. “It’s just... it’s what I was saying before. So much has changed, but I haven’t.”

“What’s changed, specifically?”

“Everything, it feels like,” Peter murmured. Tony waited, and Peter sighed. “May doesn’t miss Ben anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Tony said instantly. “Pete, you know that isn’t true.”

Peter shrugged. “Fine. But she doesn’t miss him the way I miss him. And that _is_ true,” he added, glancing at him. Tony didn’t argue. “And you... you have a daughter. And I’m glad for you both, I’m glad you didn’t mourn forever. But I don’t know how I fit anymore, anywhere, and sometimes I think—”

“Pete, no—”

“I think it’d be easier if—”

Tony grabbed his shoulder. “ _Please_ don’t say it.”

“—if I wasn’t here,” Peter finished stubbornly. 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Tony said fiercely. “Do you have any idea what I went through to get you back? You. Not half the universe. _You_. I never let you go, not really.”

Peter forced himself to look at him. “But... Morgan...”

Tony swallowed. “Okay. Come here, kid.” He pulled Peter toward him, holding him against his shoulder. Peter was too surprised to respond at all at first, and then, despite knowing that he shouldn’t, he melted. Because even if this didn’t belong to him, he wanted it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything more. 

“I was shit at this before, I know,” Tony said into Peter’s hair. “But I’ve gotten better.” Peter felt more than heard him swallow. “I think it’s safe to say that Morgan wouldn’t exist without you. But she wasn’t a replacement. I was already trying to talk Pep into a kid before you vanished. You made me believe I could be a father. You made me _want_ to be one. And then you were gone, and I––they say that grief is love with nowhere to go, and I had so much love for you and nowhere to put it. Having Morgan—it didn’t really make it better. I still missed you. In fact, I don’t think I ever missed you more than the night she was born. But at least there was somewhere for the love to go. I poured it into her.”

Tony’s arms tightened around Peter’s shoulders. Peter pressed his forehead into Tony’s chest, wholly unable to speak. “But the thing about love, kid,” Tony went on, voice shaking, “is that it’s an infinite resource. In fact, it’s a self-replicating resource. I poured the love I felt for you into her, and I got back so much more. And now you’re here, and I am so, so glad.” He pulled away and framed Peter’s face in his hands. Peter was shocked to see that there were tears standing in Tony’s eyes. “And I don’t want you to ever think, for one second, that I don’t have enough love for you and Morgan both. You’re my kids, both of you, and from the second she came into the world, all I’ve wanted is what I got this morning––the two of you, together. Do you understand?”

Peter nodded, shakily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Tony replied, pulling him close again. “I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel unwanted.”

“You didn’t, really,” Peter said, turning his face so he could speak. “Except––except you didn’t invite me up for like two weeks, and I––I thought you wanted to spend time with your real family. Without me.”

Tony sighed. “No, kid, I wanted to give you time with your aunt. Speaking of which, you should really talk to her.”

“I don’t know what to say to her,” Peter mumbled. “She’s got a whole life now that I’m not even a part of. And I still miss Ben and she’s so happy with Happy, and I don’t... I don’t know what to feel about it.”

Tony cupped the back of Peter’s head, threading his fingers into the hair. “It’s okay not to know what to feel about it. But you should know that they both care a hell of a lot about you. After you vanished, Happy started going to see May every week. Making sure she was okay, giving her someone to talk to about you. I can’t give you a lot of details, because it all happened while I was in a sleep-deprived, new-parent, fugue state, but by the time I resurfaced––there it was. Morgan wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t loved you, and I don’t think May and Happy would have fallen in love if they hadn’t loved you, too.”

“Oh,” Peter said. He wiped his face with his hand. “I don’t know how to feel about that either.”

Tony gave a soft chuckle. “It’s okay, kid. I think there are a lot of people who probably don’t know how to feel about things right now. This whole situation is kind of unprecedented.”

“I guess.” Peter nestled closer. “You’re kind of different now.”

“Pepper made me see a therapist before Morgan was born,” Tony muttered, clearly a little embarrassed. “He’s the one who gave me the ‘grief is love with nowhere to go’ line. And... I don’t know. I’ve been carrying around a lot of baggage from Howard my entire life. I always thought that being a dad would make it worse, but instead it made it easier to forgive some things. Harder to forgive others,” he added, “because there are things he did to me that I would rather die than do to either of you. But I think he did his best. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could do.”

Peter hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I think your best is pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Five out of five stars. Would totally recommend.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, kid.” He sighed, then pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple. “So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon? You’ve got me to yourself.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I thought I saw a kayak down by the lake, we could probably go find the others.” 

“I’m sure. They’ll be back in a few hours. Until then, it’s just you and me.”

Peter knocked his forehead gratefully against Tony’s shoulder. “You mentioned some of what you’ve been working on when we were in the garage last night. Want to catch me up for real?”

“Sure, kid,” Tony said, breaking into a grin. “Nothing would make me happier.”

***

Tony’s party that night was a bit of an Avengers reunion, the first time everyone had been together since right after the battle. It was overwhelming––not just the number of people, but knowing that everyone there knew who he was. Peter stuck it out through the cupcakes and the singing, but about the time Happy took Morgan upstairs to tuck her in, Peter ducked out onto the deck. 

Thor and Bruce were out there but wrapped up in their own conversation. Peter waved and headed in the other direction, toward the quiet of the dock and the water. 

He sat down and stuck his feet in, just like he had the night before. He hadn’t been in much shape to appreciate it then, but now, breathing in the wet, organic smells of the lake and the pine scent of the trees, he was able to see that this was easily one of the most beautiful places he’d ever been. 

“Hey kiddo,” May said from behind him. “Can I join you?”

He twisted around to look at her and managed a smile. “Always.”

She took her shoes off and sat down next to him, slipping her feet in almost without a ripple. She was carrying a plate with a cupcake on it––chocolate, with peanut butter frosting––and a knife. She cut the cupcake in quarters and offered it to him. 

“Thanks,” he said, accepting one of the pieces. 

They sat quietly for a while, sharing the cupcake and looking at the water, shoulders brushing. 

May’s indrawn breath, when she finally spoke, sounded too loud, almost amplified, in the silence. “I still miss him,” she said softly. “I think about him every day.”

“I know,” Peter said. “I’m not angry at you. I just wish we’d been able to do it together.”

She put her arm around his shoulders. “Tell me what you need, sweetie.”

“I...” Peter swallowed, throat tight. “I know you don’t need to go every tenth anymore. But maybe––maybe sometimes? Could you come with me just sometimes? Please?”

“I’ll come with you every time, baby,” she told him, pushing the hair back off his face. “It wasn’t ever that I wanted to stop, it was that going made me think of both of you, and it was so fucking hard––” She pressed her lips together, but it didn’t work; the next sound she made was a sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. “I just––I’ve missed you so much, and I’m so, so sorry that I forgot about the tenth.”

Peter turned and hugged her. He tucked his nose into the crook of her neck and breathed in the bergamot scent of her perfume. It hadn’t changed at all. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I love you, May.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

Peter tucked his head beneath her chin, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Here, he thought, right here, he fit. He always had. 

***

Places that had been devastated by fire––or souls that had been devastated by grief––were never quite the same again. Their shape was changed forever. Peter knew this from far too much personal experience.

But that hadn’t been the point of the time lapse video. Peter realized he’d somehow forgotten the point, or maybe he’d missed it to begin with.

Life found a way. Even if it never looked the same again, life came back. 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> This was definitely inspired by a drive I recently took through a part of Yosemite that was devastated by fire a few years ago. It was a reminder that even when the very worst happens, life finds a way. 
> 
> Comments are love.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Time-Lapse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702168) by [Thinkgazer (Vetyver)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vetyver/pseuds/Thinkgazer)




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